


Homeboy

by wickedrum



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Snippet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 15:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18210302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: Oliver questions what purpose he could have without his alterego now that he had been released from prison.





	Homeboy

**Author's Note:**

> I’m a casual viewer of Arrow. I completely ignore some characters’ scenes/existence so my show related knowledge is lacking greatly. But I’d say a lil’ hurt/comfort fic should still be possible ;)

Genre: I haven’t written a oneshot in many years. It always manages to end up being more. 

Disclaimers: I barely own my knickers. When I am writing, it's mainly for my own pleasure. It's what I'd like to see happen so when I reread in a few months, oftentimes years later, I find a story that is completely to my taste.

Pairing: Olicity as is canon.

 

“Oliver?” Felicity was cautious enough to warn him as she stepped into the bathroom, having been reminded just recently how jumpy her husband could be when startled. Of course he had always been like that ever since she had known him, but apparently his jail stint had accentuated it. 

 

“I’m fine,” the ex-vigilante held before even being asked. 

 

“Well, excuse me if I don’t find you looking like the epitome of fine sitting on the floor in front of the toilet in the middle of the night with your head bowed, almost dropping into it,” the blonde raised her eyebrows. 

 

“I was hoping I didn’t wake you.”

 

“You didn’t. But that’s no answer.”

 

“I’m fine, I don’t think I will be physically sick. It was just a precaution, sitting here.”

 

“Alright then, want to get off the floor?” Felicity leaned to put a hand under his elbow, not really expecting him to need any of her support so she was quite surprised when he swayed slightly once upright, “whoa whoa cowboy, should we sit back down?”

 

“Let’s go to bed,” Oliver steered them out the door and took a heading towards the aforementioned piece of furniture, too tired and dazed to consider anything else. 

 

“You want to tell me what’s going on with you,” the technological virtuoso had both arms gently and supportingly round her husband’s torso as she sat down with him onto the edge of the bed, “or do I need to do a blood test to tell me?”

 

“It’s nothing like that, don’t worry,” the archer leaned his head towards her, reassuring her as much as taking comfort. 

 

“So no internal bleeding, poison, aftereffects of being beaten to a pulp, the usual,” Felicity wanted to be sure. 

 

“I don’t get beaten to a pulp,” Oliver established firmly, “not very often that is.”

 

“So you want to tell me that physically, you’re ok. Pale as you were in there, and shaky. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if you had to stay any longer in that prison.”

 

“Felicity.” The hero of Star City was intent on being firm. “I’ve had worse. A lot lot worse.”

 

“Alright mister, lie down and tomorrow, I’m taking you go back to the hospital to get checked out again. Shhh,” she put a finger over his lips and pushed him down atop of the pillows, “no arguments. You want to make your wife happy, you’ll do as I say.”

 

“I would say it’s unnecessary, but it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

 

“Okay, so how can I help,” Felicity’s heart went out to her husband. Of course she knew that getting him out of prison would just be the first step to getting him back to normal, but she didn’t quite expect him to act so un-Oliver-like, subdued, adrift, uncertain, low-spirited. “You’re here, safe with me, in your wife’s arms, I just installed a new security system,” she couldn’t help but interject proudly, “but you don’t seem to appreciate the turn in your life towards good fortune?”

 

“I do, I do, it’s just..” Oliver knew he should in theory be thankful and happy and he couldn’t quite explain even to himself why he wasn’t apart from this void in his chest and belly. Who knows, it could just indeed be physical after the recent beatings, “my stomach hurts.” It was easier to focus on the corporeal. 

 

“I knew it.” Felicity jabbed him in the arm with a pointing finger, albeit carefully, questioning if he hurt anywhere else. “Let me have a look,” she turned to switch on the light by the bed. 

 

“You won’t see anything,” the hero complained about being fussed over. 

 

“Anything is a matter of interpretation,” Felicity’s hand ghosted over the many multiple coloured bruises that decorated her husband’s sculpted abdomen. Obvious signs of internal bleeding she could not see, but he did stifle a wince and a groan here and there. “I will never get used to the amount of injuries you seem to want to collect.”

 

“Maybe that part of my life is now over with for good, who knows,” Oliver was too acutely aware of the situation him and his family would end up in if he was ever found wearing the Hood again. 

 

“We’re still keeping a stash of good painkillers till then,” Felicity offered. 

 

“You’re reading my mind, Overwatch,” Oliver went with the option, even though he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to tempt his persistent nausea with ingesting anything. 

 

“Well, that identity might also be a thing of the past. Maybe I’ll do security consulting overseas. Perhaps a holiday is in order,” she provided him with three pills.

 

Oliver swallowed them without asking what they were, “I do want to visit William.” Family was important, even though he didn’t even know what kind of life he could offer the boy. “Perhaps in a couple of days when I look better.”

 

“Perhaps in a few days when you feel better,” Felicity corrected, snuggling in and gently placing a soothing hand on his stomach. 

 

The End.


End file.
